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mellxncollie · 6 months ago

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Part 1 of looking into some of the technical cinematography aspects of the show

(or, why does Dead Boy Detectives look Like That?)

(update 6/30/24: there's now a part 2! check it out here)

Dead Boy Detectives has some interesting things going on with the cameras. You probably noticed it at some point while watching the show. Whether it was the weird blurs or the sort-of-fisheye, there’s something about many of the shots that doesn’t look the way many people expect TV shows to look.

The main reason why is because it uses an anamorphic lens instead of a spherical lens. These lenses are pretty different from spherical lenses, and the recent rise of anamorphic lenses in TV has not been without some pushback, as viewers unaccustomed to them may find the look weird, distorted, or that it pulls their focus away from the content. Whether you enjoy how Dead Boy Detectives looks or find the cinematography distracting, this post is designed to explain the different effects that the lens has on the show.

This post is very long and very graphics heavy (I made lots of gifs to illustrate my points) so the rest is under a read more.

What is an anamorphic lens and what is it used for?

To begin with, a bit of history and technical info. Say you’re making a movie at most any point before the mid-'90s and you want it to be widescreen. However, the 35mm film you’re shooting on has a smaller aspect ratio (closer to a square than widescreen). You could use letterboxing (black bars on top and bottom) but then you waste the top and bottom parts of the film, and it ends up being slightly lower in ‘resolution.’ The solution: use a lens that records the full height onto the film, but squishes the picture horizontally so that it fills up the whole film frame without any letterboxing. Then, a projector (or a computer) can stretch it out again to display the whole thing in widescreen. The kind of lens that can do that is an anamorphic lens. They've technically been around since before the 1920s but were mostly used between the 1950s and the 1990s.

Up until sort of recently, television networks broadcasted using a smaller aspect ratio that they required shows to be in, and TV shows were not given the kind of cinematography budgets that movies were afforded. Anamorphic lenses are expensive and for widescreen, so they really just weren’t used for TV shows. Instead, a spherical lens was used, which is just the standard lens you think of when you picture a camera lens.

In the 90s, new flat/spherical film formats came out that allowed for widescreen (one of the popular ones being Super 35) caused anamorphic lenses to drastically drop in popularity. However, there has been a recent resurgence, one that you’ve probably subconsciously noticed in both film and television.

In the last 10-15 years, TV has been given larger and larger budgets. Additionally, the rise of streaming services and the use of phones and computers to watch shows rather than actual televisions has meant that networks have started allowing wider aspect ratios, paving the way for anamorphic lenses to begin to be used for series.

The history of these lens’ usage means they’re associated with a ‘cinematic’ look. They have a lot of characteristic effects that are not really ‘natural’ and depending on the viewer, this either enhances the experience or detracts from it.

Lots of recent series have been embracing these lenses (to varying degrees of success), including The Witcher, Sandman, Shōgun, Narcos: Mexico, The Mandalorian, Andor and Chilling Adventures of Sabrina. Doctor Who also started using anamorphic lenses at the switch to the 13th Doctor, so that may be a good reference point. For some of these, it’s a very subtle look, for others, the lens choice is glaringly obvious and overdone (I’m looking at you Sabrina), and sometimes, as is the case with Dead Boy Detectives, it’s really obvious but it remains an effective and compelling choice.

Why use an anamorphic lens in the 21st century when you could just use a spherical lens?

Anamorphic lenses create a look that some filmmakers desire, whether for their associations with a more cinematic look or their sometimes unusual quirks. In a film and tv world filled with spherical lenses that are nice, clean, and precise, anamorphic lenses introduce some irregularity and character. Making an informed decision on what kind of lens to use can enhance different themes of the work.

I want to briefly bring up Moonlight to illustrate this point. Go watch the trailer if you haven’t seen it, and you’ll probably see some parallels with the cinematography of Dead Boy Detectives. There’s less of the ‘radial’ look, but otherwise, there’s a lot of the same kinds of things. Moonlight uses an anamorphic lens and it makes the whole thing look dream-like, nostalgic, and a bit like we’re getting into the character’s heads. To me, it indicates that the story is being filtered through people. We’re not detached from the characters, observing them. The story we are watching is personal, emotional, and necessitates intimacy.

Dead Boy Detectives really benefits from the same visual effects. This is not because it enhances a dream-like or nostalgic quality, but because in the context of the show, it makes it look a bit otherworldly, magical, or otherwise supernatural. Additionally, the constraints of the lens means we get lots of focusing in on individual characters, with nice long looks at their faces allowing for more reflection on their dialogue and reactions.

So, here’s 5 different effects of anamorphic lenses to point out to you all. Starting with the one that allows us to easily identify that anamorphic lenses are being used in the first place.

You’ve probably heard of bokeh before. It's the way the lens renders the direct sources of light that are in the background but out-of-focus. You can see in this shot of Jenny how all the string lights are not circular, but elongated. On a spherical lens, these would be round.

In this next shot of the Cat King, the candles around the floor are all those elliptical shapes. Additionally, lots of other details in the background that aren’t from direct light sources also have an elongated shape. This is sometimes called waterfall bokeh.

Finally, check out this shot of one of the cats. Not only are the lights in the background irregular and elongated, but if you look to the left where the ‘horizon’ line is, there's a series of elliptical shapes where the light hits the edge of the docks.

The bokeh effect is one of those things that just happens because of the lens, and makes it pretty easy to identify that an anamorphic lens is being used. Unlike some of the other effects I’ll mention, I don’t have much to say about how this does or doesn’t add to the visuals.

Breathing is how the field of view changes when you refocus to a subject closer or farther from the lens. While spherical lenses also breathe, there’s a much more distorted look to the breathing that occurs with an anamorphic lens.

Lets start with this shot:

You can see how much the frame widens when the focus shifts from the jar of coins to Jenny. It affects the edges much more than the middle of the frame. Here’s the same shot, but with some of the features outlined (forgive my messy outlining, I used my laptop trackpad) so you can see the movement.

The frame widens when the focus goes from the foreground to the background. It appears like the whole shot is being stretched apart horizontally and compressed vertically.

However, it also does the reverse, narrowing as the focus moves from the background to the foreground.

(also in that last shot of hell, notice how the two points of light in the background elongate into those oval bokeh once they are no longer in focus)

Breathing is a very dramatic way of refocusing, and it forces us to pay attention to different things. In the shot of the Night Nurse, we have a light but the important thing after it turns on is not the light but the reaction that the people have to the cause of the light. In that shot of Niko and Edwin, it’s telling us: listen to Niko. In the shot of hell, it’s not letting us forget what the characters are running from.

The next effect is the lens flare. You can get a lens flare from a spherical lens too, but anamorphic lenses typically generate strong, horizontal flares. A spherical lens would typically create a more radial flare, with multiple lines shooting out in different directions from the light source like rays from the sun.

We see these all over the show, sometimes they’re very prominent, such as in these shots with obvious light sources:

And sometimes they're a bit more subtle. Take this shot of Edwin, Charles, and Crystal on the dock:

While the lens flare at the top of the frame has a clear source, there’s a bunch of other horizontal lines cutting across near the middle and bottom half of the frame. These likely come from light sources outside of the frame.

Some directors, cinematographers, and other creators really like anamorphic flares. Others don’t. For a show with so many dark scenes that have colorful and dramatic lighting, the lens flares seem to enhance this. They are also a constant reminder of the interaction between the lights and the camera, kind of a fingerprint of the production. Sure, they make it seem more ‘cinematic,’ but I think they also ground us in the physicality of the production. (Kind of ironic given the lack of physicality of the main characters, and also you could consider the flares themselves to be the ghosts of the lights and the camera!)

Barrel distortion is where we start getting into why exactly the show looks the way it does. This is basically a subtle fisheye effect. Because of the squishing and stretching of the footage, anamorphic lenses have more distortion than spherical lenses, and it is strongest around the edges.

You can see it most clearly in shots that have lots of vertical lines. They are relatively straight in the middle of the frame, but the closer to the edges, the more they are warped.

Looking at that shame shot of Niko in the bathroom, I have set it to stop at 3 different spots. Pay attention to the shape of the edge of the door.

At the start, it’s curved outward, like an open parentheses: (

Then, in the middle, it’s a vertical line: |

Finally, as the door passes all the way across the frame to the opposite side, it curves inward, like a closed parentheses: )

Again, notice how the lines in this shot of the Lost & Found Department change as they move from the outside towards the center. The door has an outward bulge at the beginning but becomes more 'normal’ shaped as it gets further away.

Anamorphic lenses can also have a pretty shallow depth of field and it’s used a lot in this show which is why we get a lot of those centered close-ups, and why we get that ‘radial blur.’

The center of the frame is where the actors are least likely to be distorted, meaning its easiest to have just one character in the dead center (pun intended). With a shallow depth of field, the background is out of focus, and since the actor is in the center, the background gets the most affected by the barrel distortion, leading to the sense that the background has been radially blurred.

This blurred background with a strong, centered foreground really makes objects in the foreground pop. We are then able to really focus in on different objects and characters. It brings immediacy and intimacy. Here, we have nothing to do but consider Charles. He isn’t speaking so we must consider his reaction to what’s being said.

Also, the further a character is from the center of a shot, the more they are distorted, such as Edwin and Charles in this still:

This kind of distortion definitely lends a more unnatural look to the shots, which definitely supports a show about ghosts and the supernatural. If the subjects are able to see things in our world in a way the viewers cannot, then why display the physical world the way we see it?

Finally, we have focus falloff. This is (like some of the other effects) a distortion that occurs around the edges. Here, the focus decreases the further from the center of the frame even if they’re all about the same distance from the camera.

In this shot of the Tongue & Tail, the sign 'Butcher Shop’ is clear and legible. But imagine if that sign was up in the top left or right corners, where things start to get blurry. We probably wouldn’t be able to read it.

It's also visible in this shot of Edwin. Not only does the floor get blurrier the further you get from the center, but you can see how the rope is less in focus in very top and very bottom of the frame.

The falloff (combined with the barrel distortion) is how we get the really unique dream-like look of the Edwin and Niko scene on the roof in Episode 8. (If you’re having a hard time spotting the falloff here, look at their legs)

When you start looking for falloff in this show, you start to see it everywhere. It’s easiest to spot in the corners of shots, but you can usually see all the way around the edges.

Look at the corners of this still of Edwin, or the way the top and bottom of Niko’s rent envelope aren’t as clear as the middle of it.

Or in this still, look at Charles’ jacket. The arm closest to the center has a much more defined line between it and the background compared to the arm closest to the edge.

This blur definitely is one of the more noticeable effects in the show, and it’s good at focusing our attention on the center of the frame. It guides the viewer exactly to what we should be looking at. We get tons of centered shots in this show because of this and the barrel distortion.

The falloff makes the show look softer and artistic, sometimes painterly or impressionistic. More than any other effect, the falloff is what makes me feel like I’m watching a dream or a vision. It puts us into the sensation of being fully immersed in a story.

I would argue that all of these effects (but especially the last two) not only enhace the supernatural aspect of the show, but they help us fall in love with the characters. They focus us on their faces, and encourage us to reflect on their motivations, reactions, and thoughts. The lens is telling us that we are not to take things at face value. It’s not letting us forget that there are multiple people and multiple stories involved, that things are blurry around the edges, and that things are not perfect and clean-cut.

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Sometime in the next week or so I’ll be working on part 2, where we’ll take a closer look at the cinematography of Edwin’s flashback to 1916 in Episode 1. It's posted! Read it here.

I really wanted to highlight the work of the cinematographers, Marc Laliberté, Craig Powell, and Pierre Gill because it’s clear that there was so much care and intention put into every aspect of this show.

I’m so glad fans of this show are really embracing the work of different crew members, like the work of costume designer Kelli Dunsmore (and if you somehow haven’t seen @captainfantasticalright's posts about the costumes and other aspects of the show, please go check them out right now. My roommates and I have a kind of 'stop everything, new costume analysis dropped' attitude towards their posts, and their approach to show analysis was definiteily an inspiration for this)

If you want to read more about anamorphic lenses, the article Why ‘Shogun’ (and the Rest of TV) Is Slightly Out of Focus in The Ringer is about Shōgun and the rise of anamorphic lenses in TV (Marc Laliberté also worked on a few episodes of Shōgun) and it's a great place to start.

Finally, I want to first thank @skyvoice for these tags on one of my gifsets for semi-inspiring this post (I was already considering making this but these made it into a reality).

#dead boy detectives #charles rowland #edwin payne #niko sasaki #crystal palace #cinematography #cinematography analysis #dbda #mygifs #dbda meta #dead boy detectives analysis #dbdagifs

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corazondebeskar-reads · 1 month ago

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something worse

din djarin x f!reader | my masterlist

for @burntheedges roll-a-trope challenge almost a month later 😅

note: my trope was "enemies to lovers," but I have to confess up front that there is no smut here. there's not even really a definitive conclusion. this turned into a character study because I was like, "okay let's do an imperial reader, but what about their motivation?" and then unforch I remembered this post and got struck with The Muse so here we are.

words: 3.2k

summary: you're an imperial officer loyal to moff gideon — until a run in with the mandalorian and his weird magic baby.

warnings: daddy issues, imperial reader, i don't know my mindset was v weird writing this, kind of enemies to lovers, really more enemies to allies with implied future lovin', people coming to a mutual understanding of one another, themes of parenthood and childhood and failing to live up to expectations, I'm sorry y'all I really do not know what this is but here it is anyway.

dividers by @saradika-graphics

You are your father’s daughter.

How could you ever be anything else?

You are your father’s daughter, and, ergo, you are his legacy, his prophecy, his shadow.

You are your father’s daughter and nothing more.

What you do, what he does, what you stand for — it’s wrong. You know that. You do.

But what are you to do? You are your father’s daughter. Nothing more.

You were your mother’s daughter, once. Young and sweet and bright. Hair plaited by her hands, gowns cinched by her hands, heart cradled by her hands.

She never liked the ISB. Before everyone knew the truth, before the Death Star, before the genocide. She bristled when your father signed up.

“There is to be a draft,” he said, cupping her cheeks in hands that would grow less and less careful with each kill. “It’ll be better for us if I go voluntarily. More money, more choices.”

She still struggled to stay cross in those days, when you barely came up to her waist and stayed buried in her skirts every time the harshly dressed men visited your apartment, which became your home, which became your palace, for lack of a better term.

You weren’t royalty, of course. But you felt like it, long before you knew the cost. Blood money, blood diamonds, blood-soaked hands.

Of course, by then, your father rarely spilled blood. He had men to do that for him, he had command centers and lasers and booted troops to carry out his will.

When your mother died, you learned what it was like to be a child of the Empire. What it was to be your father’s daughter.

His blood held the door open for you, lit a path paved with sycophants and servants, led you by the light of the darkness that had consumed him, of greed and power and pride.

Oh, and proud he was. Proud as you took rank after rank. Proud as you took life after life — from a distance, always. Calm, controlled, cold.

When he died on the Death Star, you didn’t waver. You were your father’s daughter, dead or alive. your boss said as much when they presented you a medal in his stead, a postmortem prize for dying for the cause.

“Your father’s daughter, through and through,” Gideon said, the hint of a smirk curling his lips. Three years in his service and you still couldn’t tell when his words were meant to be cruel. He was always that way, a step ahead, smooth with silk and sneers.

This time, you knew he meant it, one way or another. After all, he had seen you grow. Seen you change and solidify, right from his first visit to your home when your mother’s hands shook as she poured the bourbon, which likely cost more than your salary even now.

You are your father’s daughter in the daylight, keeping the cracks full of confidence. There was no room in this world for your mother’s daughter. There was no room in this world for doubt.

Din Djarin is not his father’s son. Nor is he his mother’s, his buir’s, or anyone’s.

Not anymore.

Din Djarin is, as all Mandalorians are, one of many. He is but one ad’ika of his tribe and all of them wrapped together. He is Din, but he is also Mando, who is all and none.

Together, as one. One part of a whole churning, swirling essence of what it is to be Mandalorian, to be a brother, to be a father, to be a soul.

He is not his father’s son but he has his eyes. They aren’t for anyone to see, and there’s none left alive that would recognize them, anyway.

He is not his mother’s son but he has her nose. It’s not for anyone to see, and there’s none left alive that would recognize it, anyway.

But Grogu is his father’s son. His buir’s ad’ika. He shares none of his features but all of his heart.

And Din isn’t about to let Gideon tear his heart from his chest.

Not when he’s going to have to give it away to the Jetii. Not when he’s going to have to learn to live with his heart outside his body, across the stars, lifetimes apart.

Not with Gideon. Never with Gideon.

You meet the Dark Troopers at the hangar to receive Gideon’s prize, though you neither know nor care about his little petty feud with some Mandalorian. In the wake of the Empire, he’s become obsessed. Obsessed with the Mandalorians, with their steel, with their nerve. He says this thing, whatever it is, will restore the glory of the Empire.

You find it hard to care these days. What good is the Empire? It’s dead and gone, and it took your father with it.

You are not your father’s daughter. Nor are you your mother’s. Their ghosts have left you vacant, a blank slate, and the only thing keeping you from disappearing into the vast and empty galaxy is Gideon.

He’s not a particularly pleasant man, but he gives you purpose, even if you’re not entirely sure it’s worth the effort. But every day, you rise from bed, bathe, dress, and follow the whim of this vainglorious monster-made-man, and you do not think about life. You do not think about the trees or the seas or a reason to breathe.

You think about duty, not desire.

And so it goes.

Which is all to say that when the “trooper,” a glorified droid, hands you a baby, you freeze.

On the outside, you’re impassive. Unmoving, unfeeling, unruffled. Inside, there’s a buzzing taking up residence in your brain. Something fuzzy and uncomfortable.

You hold the child by the waist at a healthy distance. It looks afraid. You don’t blame it. The hangar of Gideon’s cruiser is a cold, desolate place. You are a cold, unwelcoming face.

Gideon’s grin is no less unsettling than your blankness, but the child reacts viscerally, the tips of its tiny nails digging into your fingers it tries to escape your grasp. You hold him out with a grimace, nose wrinkled.

As Gideon reaches to take it from you, it turns its fuzzy little head and looks at you with big, brown eyes. You have the strangest feeling that it's upset with you.

What a silly thought. It’s a small creature, probably not even capable of such emotional complexity.

The buzzing doesn’t stop. If anything, it’s a slow crescendo. You find yourself drawn to the sound, drawn to the way your whole body feels the prick of a thousand invisible pins until you wind up in its cell.

It happens over and over and over. You lose focus. Your tasks neglected; your will stolen. Time and time again the numb, vacant feeling finds you in the cell holding the child.

You come to your senses and set it back on the bench, it’s tiny cuffs clinking.

You blink. It blinks. You blink. It blinks.

You leave.

Until you don’t.

“I was wrong,” Gideon drawls lazily when he enters the cell to find you standing, face blank, the child in your arms. “You’re not your father. You’re weak, like your mother. Feeble-brained.”

You’re not your father.

Of course you’re not.

You never were.

“It’s been clear, of course, since he died. What a waste of a man. You’ve never had half the potential, but at least you were useful. A shame.”

The hum of the darksaber igniting drowns the buzzing for the first time since the child arrived, and you snap out of the trance, suddenly aware of the little heartbeat racing under your fingertips. It makes a soft noise, with an inflection like a question, and stupidly, you answer.

“No,” you assure the critter, by the Maker, what were you doing? But it responds just as the klaxons ring and Gideon abandons you in the cell.

Your head spins, as does the room. What are you doing? What are you doing? What are you—

Nothing, the darkness answers as it takes you.

The Mandalorian’s visor is as unreadable as the big brown eyes that peer into your cell alongside him, though much lower.

You blink. It blinks. He doesn’t.

He doesn’t move or speak, a tower in the night. Not a warning but a turret. Deadly and still, waiting for you to move and give him a reason.

You look between them. The most unlikely duo. And when you look up at the Mandalorian, your mouth opens, but he beats you to it.

“Don’t ask. I don’t know,” he grunts, and stands to his full height. “He made me bring you.”

It comes rushing like the tide, taking you out at the knees. You’re on the Mandalorian’s ship. There are a million questions in your veins, but you won’t bleed for him. You stay silent, sprawled there on the cold durasteel where you had awakened.

He pushes a canteen of presumably water and a ration pack through the grate and closes it. Without another word, he lifts the baby and leaves you in the dark.

He mostly leaves you alone—but he does consistently feed you. The little one, however, is a frequent visitor to your cell, much to the frustration of his guardian.

It takes you longer than it should to piece it together.

The buzzing in your head.

Why Gideon wanted the child.

In the end, it’s your propensity for eavesdropping, the same skill that built your career, that solves multiple mysteries at once.

The Mandalorian’s voice is gentler, almost comforting, as it wafts through the open cockpit door.

“You can’t just keep refusing to go with them, kid. I can’t teach you how to be a Jedi.”

A Jedi.

Your gasp is loud and sharp, a slip-up you’ll later blame on exhaustion and the baby’s brain manipulation or whatever mumbo-jumbo “Force” magic it’s apparently doing to you.

The muzzle of the Mandalorian’s pistol is long enough to meet your temple through the bars.

You freeze. He sighs.

“Well, I was taking you to the New Republic,” he says. “But I’m afraid that’s no longer an option.”

Your stomach swoops, but your brain doesn’t falter. You snort, daring to lift your eyes to take him in your peripherals. “Wasn’t a very good option to begin with,” you say with carefully constructed casualness. “I’m not much good to you with the New Republic, or with my brain splattered on your ship’s wall.”

“You’re not much good to me at all,” he says, but he waits.

Your heart picks up its pace. You don’t give him a chance to lose patience. “I know Gideon. I know everything.”

“Most Imps would rather die than betray their masters,” he scoffs. “But you haven’t even tried.”

You know. The lullaby pill sits safely in your fake molar. If you were your father’s daughter, you’d be an empty husk by now. “Maybe I’m a coward,” you say.

He holsters the pistol. “Maybe,” he agrees. He turns, getting halfway across the hall, when he pauses, not even looking over his shoulder at you. “You’re still not getting out of there.”

It’s one of the days when nobody comes to see you, where the ship sits stationary on some skughole while the hunter hunts and the baby… well, you don’t really know what it does. Just that it’s not there, he’s not there, there’s nobody there but you.

By yourself.

Alone.

Have you ever been alone?

Of course you have. You are your mother’s daughter, after all. And she was always alone. Until the end. But, of course, she designed it that way.

Wait, though.

You haven’t ever been alone. You are your father’s daughter, raised in the barracks, living life on a ship that was never quiet.

But he doesn’t know that. Doesn’t know you. Doesn’t know you’re anyone’s daughter, let alone something worse.

It leaves you reeling. For weeks. Your days become a mockery. No longer do you rise before the suns and accomplish your goals, fulfilling your minute purpose. No longer do you tick off the boxes of each cycle, each shift, each breath.

Instead, you’re left to do the one thing you’ve spent your whole life trying not to do. You ruminate. Alone with your thoughts, you have to face them. The steady beat of duty is replaced with dread as you wake each morning — though, truthfully, you’re not even sure it’s morning — and grapple with that you don’t have a purpose. You never did.

Not your father’s daughter. Not your mother’s daughter. Not anything at all, really.

This he seems to know, since he can’t figure out a purpose for you either. Grogu throws him side eye when he so much as thinks about the most obvious solution. Your body in a gutter would clean up his problems without much effort.

But no. His son seems to think you’re worth keeping alive. Din is a little concerned that Grogu thinks you’re a pet of some kind, the way he slips between the bars to share a snack or pat you on the knee. It’s harmless, really, and you’ve proven too listless and lost to be a threat.

So in the cell and his mind, you stay.

You are no one’s daughter, and he is no one’s son.

What this means is that no one comes to look for any of you when the ship falls from the sky. No one, of course, but the TIE pilots who shot you down.

When you come to in the wreckage, you’re alone. There are no signs of the Mandalorian or his little green baby. The bars of your cage, which you braced yourself against during the fall, are mangled enough that you’re incredibly lucky twice over. Not only do you have room to escape, but you managed to somehow avoid being impaled by 2” thick durasteel rods. Not that you’re in mint condition, but you’re alive.

And free.

The two TIEs are sitting parked nearby. Just parked. No defenses, no lurking troopers. You could fly a TIE in your sleep.

Your fingers twitch toward the panel, but you can’t seem to focus enough to punch in the override code. You can’t even think over the damn buzzing—

The buzzing.

The baby.

You’re following the sound, the sensation, before you realize you’ve turned away from the ship. It guides you, some invisible… force, through the outskirts of town into the bowels of a thrumming city.

Until it doesn’t.

When the buzzing stops, you don’t notice right away, haunted by its reverberations. When the silence sets over your shoulders like a shroud, it scares you. You can’t make it make sense, but nothing does anymore, anyway.

You are nobody’s daughter, but he is someone’s son, and for some reason, this matters more than you could ever explain.

When you find them, they look dead. Technically, you find the pilots first, and they are dead. You liberate them of their credits and blasters and weave your way into the alleys, following a trail of blood.

The trail turns to a river, at the mouth of which you find the Mandalorian. The streaky neon bounces off the beskar, and you can’t tell what’s a reflection and what’s actually blood on the armor.

Worse is the baby’s little body, face down in the soil beside his father. His soft little coat is soaked in blood, and you can only hope it is the Mandalorian’s.

Not that you care, or anything.

Familiar cold detachment sets in, allowing you to quickly assess the situation. The baby is breathing steadily, unconscious but alive. He has no visible wounds, and the blood is only on the outside of his jacket. One down, one to go.

The Mandalorian is not so fortunate. His pulse is slow and stuttering. The wound on his abdomen seeps sluggishly, not because he’s healing, but because he’s running out of blood to bleed.

In the end, you dig through the pouches around his belt until you emerge victorious with a single bacta patch, slapped sloppily on the split skin.

It does occur to you, then. To walk away.

This time, you can’t blame the baby when you tuck his sleeping body into the blood-soaked bag and heft him over your shoulder. You can’t blame his magic mumbo-jumbo when you heave the Mandalorian’s heavy boots up and under your arms, dragging the beskar-burdened behemoth behind you.

The credits stolen from your former coworkers buy you a week in a hostel. It’s little more than a bunk, but at least it has a door. The small compartment’s ceiling is too low to sit up fully — meant only for sleeping, but here you are, performing a small surgery in the cramped space. There’s just enough room for your three bodies, and you have to rob the Mandalorian to get enough supplies to keep him alive.

When he wakes, though, he doesn’t return the favor. His blaster is at your temple before you even realize he’s conscious.

“What did you do?” he growls, the pistol knocking at your already-aching head.

“What did i do? I saved your scudbucket ass,” you snap.

But he’s not even paying attention. The blaster is still debossing a little circle into your temple and he’s not even looking at you. He’s checking on the baby.

“Explain,” he says, once he’s affirmed that the little green bogwing is just having a nap. You think. It seems a little more than a nap, but he had a pulse, so you had focused on the giant sack of bleeding beskar instead.

You recount your day from waking up among the wreckage until now. He pulls the blaster away and holsters it.

“And,” you say, glaring, “you’re heavy as all hells. I think I threw my back out.”

He snorts. “Probably. Kriffing stupid to try to carry someone three times your size.”

You’re not sure that’s accurate, but given the weight of the karking armor, it might be close.

Silence fills the little bunk. He tries to shift to give you more room, but lets out a grunt as it aggravates his wounds.

“I didn’t take it off,” you say quietly, unsure why you need to assure him. But he speaks in time with you.

“Why didn’t you leave?”

You both pause.

“I know,” he says after a moment. “There’s blood in here.”

You groan. “I better not have wasted all that time and money just for you to die from a head injury. I am not fit to be a parent to your baby sorcerer.”

“It’s superficial,” he says with a shrug. “Wait, what money?”

“Your money,” you say callously.

He watches you, helmet tilting just enough to make you uncomfortably aware of your ragged appearance and every movement.

“Why didn’t you leave?” he repeats.

You close your mouth, teeth grinding as you chew on your answer. Finally, you just say it. The wretched thought that’s been seeping into the vestiges of your resolve.

“A father is a hell of a thing to lose,” you mumble, gesturing vaguely at the kid.

The Mandalorian stays still and silent for too long, setting your nerves on edge. Finally, he looks away.

“That it is,” he says quietly.

#din djarin x reader #mando x reader #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x you #mando x f!reader #mando x you #mando fic #the mandalorian fic #fic: something worse #fic: din drabbles

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letters-to-lgbt-kids · 18 days ago

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My dear lgbt+ kids,

If you sometimes come across the term “banned books” but don’t really know what it means, here’s a simple little introduction to the topic:

“Banned books” refers to books that have been censored or removed from libraries, schools, or bookstores due to objections from certain groups or individuals.

When we read that definition, I think a really common and understandable response is: „whoa, okay, these must be really bad books full of dangerous ideas!“… and in some way, that’s true.

Because, you see, to someone with a homophobic worldview, any book with a gay character is really bad and dangerous. And to a child abuser, any book that educates children on consent is really bad and dangerous.

Among the top reasons for book bans are lgbt+ content, sexual content (including sexual education or education on sexual abuse), themes of racism and themes like drug use or addiction. Over the years, many books with significant cultural and educational value have faced bans - and this continues to be an issue all around the world, including in the US.

When books are banned, it restricts the access to information people (including kids and teenagers) need to understand themselves and others. This negatively affects queer people and other marginalized groups (for example people of color or disabled people) but it also impacts everyone else. Diversity in literature enriches our understanding of the diversity of real life. It helps to build empathy, compassion, kindness and understanding. Access to different stories and viewpoints is vital for an inclusive society.

Censoring queer books in particular also normalizes the message that queer experiences are inappropriate or “dirty” - which, again, is really beneficial to homophobes and transphobes. If it feels safe for them to say that queer books harm children, it paves the way for all other kinds of discrimination and harassment of queer people.

Now you may think “this all makes sense when it comes to books with gay characters! But didn’t you also mention stuff like sexual abuse and addiction and racism up there? These are indeed bad and dangerous things!”

I think this is another really common thought. These things happen in real life and it can be uncomfortable to even think about them. But that’s precisely why we need books about those “uncomfortable” topics!

We may not like the idea that a child hears about racism or abuse - but in a world where kids can experience racism and abuse, they also need to be able to read about racism and abuse. They need to be able to say “this is what’s happening to me and this is not okay”. We need to be able to name bad things when they happen to us or when we witness them happening to others. We need an understanding of and a language for bad things. That’s the only way to fight the bad things.

Another thought you may have is “Okay, and now what? I don’t have the power to do anything about all this anyway”, and honestly I wouldn’t blame you for that one either. Hearing about book bans (on top of all the other negative stuff we hear about) can feel really depressing. But there are things you can do to push back and help keep diverse stories accessible - even if you are young or have limited resources!

Some ideas:

use your public library (many public libraries actively resist censorship and make banned books available!)

use a digital library (services like Libby and Project Gutenberg offer free access to many books)

look out for online petitions or letter-writing campaigns by organizations that oppose book bans (for example PEN in America)

look up if there are any “little free libraries” in your area (free book-sharing box operating on the honor system: anyone can take or leave a book for no cost)

look up if there are any book swapping events in your area

take part in reading groups, book clubs etc. (either in person or online)

And of course the big one: if you can afford to buy books - make a point to buy banned books (or more generally, queer books and books from marginalized authors and books on topics that frequently get banned)! As a starting point, you can find lists of banned books online. Wikipedia has one, for example.

If you have a bigger budget, you could even buy multiple copies and put some in your local “little free library” or bring them to book-swapping events or gift them to friends etc! (You could also ask your local public library (or school library or prison library or youth center or women’s shelter etc) if they take book donations, but you may want to hold off on buying before they say yes - not all of them can accept donations!).

Happy reading and resisting!

With all my love,

Your Tumblr Dad

#lgbt #lgbt+#While writing this I thought about mentioning my books in it but it felt really inauthentic to use this serious topic to market my own book #So instead I’ll just put it in the tags here #My book Letters To The LGBT Community is an educational book on queer themes and would be a great choice for a little free library #In my humble and totally unbiased opinion

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purelyfiction · 10 months ago

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Room for Dessert

Robert 'Bob' Floyd x F!Reader

Summary: it's date night for you and Bob and as always, he is the most doting gentleman you know. full of manners and always wanting to be up to expectations! after a gracious dinner, Bob reminds you there’s still a course you missed at the restaurant.

Word count: 1,658 words

Author notes: HIIIIIII i got this as a prompt from a prompt sheet ages ago and wanted to put this out for mr perfect in every way's birthday but i finished it maybe two hours after the day ended in EST time so!! a day late but, in honor of blorbo's birthday a very nice little birthday treat :)))) HEY THIS HAS SMUT SO IF YOU AREN'T 18+ GTFO || f receiving oral, maybe spanking? not sure it counts. some nsfw language for sure. Thank you @callsignthirsty for beta-ing the majority of this as always you are crucial for my writing :))))))

Your darling and sweet man had gone the extra mile for date night. A white tablecloth restaurant, reservations, bottle service to your table, and the whole nine yards. He’d gotten himself all dressed up just so you could do the same. He’d held doors, played your playlist the whole way in his beat-up classic truck – the perfect man. There was even a fresh set of flowers on the counter when you’d returned home. Amazed by all of this, you look back at him as you drift into the kitchen.

“You have really outdone yourself, Bo.” Your fingers caress the petals, looking over the roses with such delicate motions. You catch Bob’s reflection in the window as he comes up behind you.

“I wouldn’t call it outdoing myself if this is what I deem the standard.” Hands wrap so delicately around your waist, finding themselves at home as the two of you linger in the continued feel-good endorphins from the night.

You have work in the morning. He has training. Yet as his palms flatten against the elegant fabric of your dress, you hum with ease and let your head sink back to his shoulder. Bob takes this new spot as an invitation to pepper minute and delicate kisses up your neck, to your jawline. If this keeps going, the two of you might end up miserable and sleep-deprived. His hand grabbing the flesh of your thigh convinces you to ditch the bedtime.

“Your standard is far from the industry’s,” you tease, looking at how his blue eyes seem to shift in the low light of your kitchen.

“Guess you’ve got the top-of-the-line product then, now don’t you darlin’?” Hands travel from where they’d been innocently tracing little circles on your hip bones. Instead, slinking down to your thighs to toy with the hem of your skirt in this wonderful dress (which he’d bought you just for tonight).

“It would seem that way. And it’s still running like a dream three years later.” There’s an amused huff of air deposited onto your skin, hands busy entertaining the softness of your thighs, fingertips paving a path of goosebumps under them.

“You sure about that? No need for a diagnostics run? Make sure there aren’t any lingering bugs that might be screwing up the hardware?” There’s an easy giggle that leaves you while his hands busy themselves spinning you back around to face him, guiding you so you are flush against the counter of the island.

“I mean, everything seems to be in working order.” Your own arms wrap up around his neck as he gets impossibly closer, lips gluing themselves back to the skin of your neck, moving downward this time. One hand takes yours, holding onto it innocently as his tongue draws a hotspot to your skin. In one swift movement, he’s flattening your hand against his groin, smirking at the way your breath catches when you make contact.

“I think you’re right, baby.” He’s rock-hard. Instead of letting you linger in the sensation, Bob’s moving before you can even indulge in his previous action, hands gripping under your ass and carefully lifting you to rest on the counter. His lips meet yours for the first time since arriving home, his tongue pushing its way to its rightful place against yours. One hand continues to toy with anything he can find under your skirt, his fingers skating to the lace of your underwear, tugging at them with no real defined goal. You're like magnets, Bob's large hand hopelessly drawn to your waist, your chest, fingers desperately grasping at you through the padding of your bra. There’s a resistance as his lips pull back, moving back to the spot right under your ear. “You know, I just realized something.” The low baritone of his register vibrates the shell of your ear.

“Did you get a notification on your operating system?” The tease leaves him nipping at your ear.

“Something like that,” he huffs, hands still gripping onto you as if you will vanish if he lets you go. “We completely skipped over the dessert portion of dinner.”

“Was it on the agenda?” The response comes quick, but not nearly as instant as the following one. “Or is this fine-tuned machine starting to break down?” His hand is gripping your chest again, an almost punishing response to your question.

“This machine would like to self-correct if you’d just be patient enough.” He finally breaks the magnetic spell he’s under, blue eyes a heavy, royal color by this point. His hands easily glide back under your skirt, both of them working in tandem to tug the cotton from your hips. You shift to help him rid the fabric from your body, the cold granite of the countertop making you shiver on contact. With your panties on the floor, his hands drop to the counter, boxing you in as you rest on a makeshift pedestal to your most nerdy—yet flushed and intoxicating—boyfriend. The cocksure demeanor has begun to fade ever so slightly, uncertainty creeping in at the most inopportune time. “I- ugh-” his fingers are chilled from the stone when they return to your waist.

Your eyes meet with his, the softness of your boyfriend suddenly on full display as his hands make laps on your thighs, running up and down. A cautious hand comes up to his chin, forefinger and thumb gripping it. “Honey?”

This happens from time to time. He’ll be on such a roll, so easily matching the energy that you ignite in him, then suddenly shut down as if he’s rebooting. Once, he told you that he would get so overwhelmed with how many emotions he felt toward you—so turned on—that he would short-circuit and need a minute for all systems to come back online. Bob’s gaze returns to yours, no longer spaced out, hands pausing their continuous motion in favor of gripping at your thighs once more.

“Would it be too crass to say I want you to come on my glasses?” All systems go. Your hand shifts up to caress his jawline, carefully guiding his lips back to yours.

“No. It’s fucking hot-” Your answer evaporates into the air as you tug him close again, his hips slotting between your easily parted thighs.

“Should I–?” he gasps, eyes flicking toward the floor before they return to your mouth.

“If you want me to cum on your glasses, Bo?” You run your tongue over your kiss-stung lips. “Yeah.”

Bob surges forward, eager to lick into your mouth, claiming it before falling to his knees. You card your fingers through his hair and shift your legs further apart to give him more room to work with. “God, baby, you look so good like this,” he groans. The praise jolts you as large hands settle on the inside of your thighs, careful lips starting a trail of kisses from the top of one knee, up your leg, and right to your dripping center. His breath staccatos over your skin, hovering as a thumb carefully spreads you, basking in what he’s done to you. “Oh, this never gets old, angel, never, never.” The sound of his voice fades as his tongue expertly glides up your folds, making a lap or two at the top that sends your breathing pattern into a fit. You attempt to brace against the counter as he works, your hand gripping taut to the curls you adored.

You aren’t sure what code Bob has written in his brain that gives you the benefit of duality: the charming and beyond kind gentleman at dinner this evening and the absolutely rogue man between your legs.

“You taste so good, baby, so fucking amazing—fuck dessert,” it’s muttered against your cunt, eagerly lapped away to send your stomach spiraling. You have half a mind to let the counter behind you morph into a mattress as your eyes fall shut. You’re tempted to let the stone cool your skin from the burning sensation Bob is supplying you.

Instead, you jump, eyes shooting open when his hand comes to the outside of your thigh. Glancing down, blue eyes drill into yours, Bob pulling away with the hardest focus chiseled into his features. “Eyes on me.” Oh, fuck, he was taking it to the extremes. Bob’s ability to hyperfocus was an advantage and a disadvantage. Such as right now, when he is insistent on making you watch as he devours you, barely getting enough air as he fastens himself even more firmly against you.

As his tongue pushes into you, a shrill sound escapes you. You’re not going to be much longer, if he stays down this path. Bob just might get his wish. And he does, not even minutes later, your legs viscerally shaking, large hands clamping them to the counter to prevent you from locking your thighs around his head in an effort to stop. Gasping for air, slapping the palm of your hand against the countertop, your words are short off your lips, “Bob, baby, you can- shit- honey that’s enough,” however, he hasn’t powered down yet, with no intentions on stopping. When you try again, an arm crosses over your hips, pushing you down just enough to keep him centered right where he needed to be to tie the knot in your stomach again. You can’t help the way you squirm and writhe under him, strong arm gripping to your hips as he frantically swipes his tongue against you - until you break, nearly screaming under him, possibly - no, likely disturbing the neighbors.

You’ve laid fully back on the stone by this point, unable to will yourself to move after all Bob had put you through. There’s a pop of his knee when he stands up, hands coming to either side of your body, leaning onto the counter and over top of you. Glasses not only fogged up to no end, but in dire need of a cleaning.

#bob floyd #bob floyd x f!reader #bob floyd smut #bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd #robert floyd x f!reader #robert floyd x reader #robert x reader

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tarotwithavi · 1 year ago

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How would you be described as an inspiration?

Piles : 1~2~3

How to choose a pile?

Take a deep breath and gently close your eyes. Politely request your spirit guides to reveal the appropriate pile meant for you, then open your eyes. Whichever pile captures your attention is the one meant for you.

Masterlist

Paid services

Pile 1

You are a true beacon of inspiration, a living embodiment of resilience and gratitude. Despite facing numerous hardships throughout your life, you have embraced each challenge with unwavering determination. Your relentless efforts have paved the way for your remarkable achievements, serving as a testament to your unwavering work ethic and tenacity. Your remarkable ability to find contentment in the face of adversity is nothing short of inspiring. Through your encouraging words and actions, you uplift those around you, guiding them towards a life filled with happiness and fulfillment. Your journey stands as a powerful reminder that even in the darkest moments, the light of gratitude and positivity can shine through, illuminating a path of hope for all who are fortunate enough to know you.

Pile 2

You are an incredible wellspring of inspiration, a guiding force that empowers others to unleash their full potential. Your unwavering belief in the limitless capabilities of individuals fuels a fiery determination within them. You refuse to let societal norms or others' expectations confine anyone's aspirations, urging them to break free from those suffocating constraints. Your words resonate like a symphony of encouragement, reminding everyone that their dreams are valid and attainable. Your fearless spirit emboldens those around you to shatter their self-imposed limits, embracing challenges with a newfound vigor. Through your resolute guidance, you lead by example, demonstrating that the pursuit of excellence is a journey where setbacks are mere stepping stones to greater heights. Your legacy is etched in the hearts of those you've inspired, propelling them to stride forward with unwavering determination, ready to conquer any obstacle and rewrite their destinies.

Pile 3

Your unrelenting commitment to personal growth and self-improvement sets a luminous example for all who have the privilege of knowing you. Fearlessly standing alone, you carve your path with courage, never swayed by the opinions of others. Your remarkable ability to extend respect even to your adversaries showcases a rare and admirable depth of character. Challenges may rise like tempests, but you meet them head-on, undaunted by their daunting nature. It is in the embrace of solitude that you find solace, cultivating an inner peace that radiates like a guiding light. Your journey is a testament to the power of self-belief and resilience, inspiring those around you to confront their fears, walk their own distinct path, and discover the tranquility that comes from embracing their authentic selves.

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ellethespaceunicorn · 5 months ago

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Daddy Dearest

Title: Daddy Dearest

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x Female!Reader

Word Count: 1.5K

Prompts: Lloyd Hansen + Female Reader + Daddy kink + “Can you feel how much I want you?” + Darkfic, requested by @hansensgirl

Summary: Your latest client takes everything from you.

Warnings: Creep!Lloyd, Daddy kink, Dark!Daddy!Lloyd, pet name (Princess), darkfic, sex work, forced ageplay, Lloyd has a corruption kink, dead dove: do not eat, dacryphilia, violence against Reader (choking, threatening, Lloyd tackles Reader)

A/N: Hi, Sab!!! Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best.

Dividers by me

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

Sweet Treats Event 2024 Masterlist

My Masterlist

The dossier for your latest client reads like a warning label. It is full of kinks and fetishes you are familiar with but have never experienced yourself. And then there were a few that you had to do a little research on.

There isn’t much to read about his personal life. You notice that he is single due to his line of work, which is only listed as ‘Contractor’. You decide to keep the conversation only about pleasing your client.

The car service drops you off at a gorgeous modern mansion in the hills. In the back of a gated community, it shines with floor-to-ceiling windows and marble stone walls. The fountain in the middle of the circular driveway spouts glistening water that shoots a bit higher out of the fish sculpture atop it to signal the top of the hour.

To say you feel out of place is an understatement. While you are used to meeting high-profile clients, you would rarely meet them at their homes. They tend to opt for penthouse suites in expensive hotels or apartments that their wives or girlfriends don’t know about.

Your heels click and clack across the stone-paved driveway as you walk to the front door. You fix the short black dress that you picked to wear today. It wasn’t your usual style, a bit showy in places you would have seen on slinky lingerie, but you wore it so the client could get a better look at your assets. Noticing the doorbell camera to the right of the entrance, you press it and wait.

You weren’t expecting to hear a woman’s voice.

“Mr. Hansen will be with you shortly. Please, do come in and make yourself comfortable in the lounge to the left,” she says in an eerily chipper voice.

Before you can respond, you hear the metallic click of the door unlocking. Swallowing your uncertainty, you turn the ornate handle and open the door. You peek around the door and then step through it, closing it behind you. Spotting the lounge area, you walk over and sit on the pristine white leather couch.

While looking around the room, you notice there are no photos or other personal touches that make a house into a home. You still haven’t seen what the guy looks like; he could be hideous. But he could also be just a normal dude. As if thinking about him could get his attention, you hear a cheerful whistling accompanied by quick footsteps skipping down the stairs.

Once he makes it to the entryway of the lounge, he leans against the door jamb and crosses his arm, studying you for a moment. You refuse to be the only one being scrutinized, so you cross your arms and tilt your head while staring at him.

Handsome face, even under that trashstache. Gorgeous blue eyes and soft pink lips. His yellow and beige striped polo fits him nicely, showing off his big biceps. His fitted khakis stretch across his thick thighs. You attempt to hide your excitement as you peek at the bulge in his pants, but he catches it and chuckles.

“Alright, Princess. As much as I love that dress you’re wearing, I’ve got something that is much, much cuter waiting upstairs for you.” He winks at you, stepping toward you and holding out his hand once he is towering over you.

You tentatively put your hand in his, and he helps you up off of the couch. “Thank you, Mr. Hansen.”

He tsks at your words. “Now, Princess, while I love how polite you’re being, you’re getting the name wrong,” he starts, smiling at your confused expression. “When you’re here with me, you are Princess, and I am Daddy. Go ahead, try it out.”

His thumb soothes the skin on the back of your hand while his eyes stay on your face, waiting for a response. His smile threatens to fade as the grip on your hand grows tighter.

“Daddy,” you murmur, your voice barely loud enough for him to hear.

His other hand comes to cradle your face, then boops your nose. “Good girl, Princess. Don’t worry, I’ll get you to say it louder in due time,” he promises. “Now, come on. Let’s go and get you changed into something a bit more comfortable, okay?”

You nod, and he puts a hand around the shell of his ear. You realize that he wants you to answer him. “Yes, Daddy.”

“That’s my good girl. Let’s not forget that again. Daddy might not be as patient with you next time, Princess.” He boops your chin this time and turns, pulling you behind him as he exits the room and ascends the large staircase in the foyer to the second floor. You keep up with his quick steps somehow, ending up being tugged down a long hallway to a set of double doors. He lets your hand fall from him so he can be as dramatic as he needs to be.

Turning the knobs and pushing the doors open, he steps aside and lets you assess everything. A plush pastel pink carpet greets you as you move inside the room; its fluffiness compels you to remove your heels and feel it between your toes. Everywhere you looked, from the bedding on the four-poster canopy bed to the knickknacks on countless shelves to the stuffed animals piled high in one corner, various shades of pink and white assault your vision.

Posters on the wall range from inspirational quotes to teddy bears dressed as ballerinas to anime girls with varying stages of undress. The pink and white marble wardrobe draws your attention, and you open it to reveal more outfits than you could wear in a lifetime. The clothing, all in pastel shades, is of great quality and, surprisingly, all in your size. You close the wardrobe and step back into the center of the room.

“You don’t like it,” he surmises, closing the doors of the room as he steps inside fully.

“I’m just confused. I don’t feel comfortable in here, Mr. Hansen,” you plead, facing away from him so you don’t see when his face changes.

“You’re about to feel a lot less comfortable, Princess,” he cautions.

You jump at the sound of the lock clicking into place in the room. Whipping around, you watch helplessly as he lunges at you. His hands wrap around your neck as he tackles you to the pink carpeting. You try in vain to peel his hands away, and as you struggle, he somehow manages to get his hips between your legs. He growls when he feels the heat from your barely covered pussy. He uses his grip around your neck as an anchor so he can grind into you.

“Can you feel how much I want you?” He loosens his hold on your neck when your eyes threaten to roll back in your head. He pushes your face into the carpet when you start to sputter and cough.

After getting your breathing under control, you lay stock-still under him, afraid to make a move that may anger him and cause you more pain. As much as you want to push him off of you, he’s already proven what he’s capable of.

“You behave, and so will I, Princess,” he huffs, slowly rising to stand over you. “Now, you put on this cute little outfit and let Daddy take care of you.”

You follow his line of sight to clothes laid out on the bed, pulling yourself up and fixing your dress. Once you are close enough, you take in the features of the clothing he picked out-a pink denim overall dress with a stitched bouquet on the large front pocket. To wear underneath the dress is a plain white T-shirt and white briefs decorated with flowers. White knee-high socks and pink jelly sandals complete the outfit.

If you weren’t so in shock, you would scream or try to fight him. But you are past the realm of where this wasn’t going to happen. Instead, you undress as he watches. Putting on the shirt, underwear, and socks was easy enough. However, he offers to help you with the dress and gropes you here and there. He sits you down on the bed and puts your shoes on for you in an act so sweet, you almost forget where you are and what you are doing.

After looking you over, he stands to his full height in front of you and cradles your face in his hands. “I am going to ruin you. Inside and out, Princess. You have no idea,” he chuckles, using his thumb to wipe away the tear that falls from your right eye. “And please, let those tears out. They only get me more excited.” The sniffle that escapes you had him biting his lip as if to prove his point.

The remaining shred of hope you had held onto floats away in the wind as you watch him unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants. By the time he is lying next to you and catching his breath, your grip on reality has been fucked out of you. You curl into his side and smile at him, “Thank you, Daddy.”

A/N: Possibly the darkest Lloyd I have ever written. This Lloyd is a creep, but damnit…I love him.

#chris evans #chris evans characters #lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen x you #chris evans fic #chris evans fanfiction #lloyd hansen fanfiction #lloyd hansen smut #lloyd hansen fic #dark fanfiction #dark fic #the gray man #ellethespaceunicorn fic #daddy dearest #sweet treats event 2024 #dark lloyd hansen #dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic

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melyzard · 11 months ago

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*this article is from 2021

*this article is from March 2023 (and has a lot more interesting breakout data such as who is targeted more and by which sites) (the answer won't surprise you)

#internet safety #you need to protect yourself #we dont have to live like this #fight against the capitslist hellscape #its not as hard as they make you think #mobile games #happy new year

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merbear25 · 3 months ago

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Twisted desires (Caesar)

A budding flower of newfound interest quickly grew into full bloom the longer she spent with the man who hired her. Two damned souls with different purposes in life, and yet their paths couldn’t have entwined more perfectly, intersecting at just the right moment. Getting close to a man like Caesar Clown would require a bit of persuasion as Lucille came to realize. However, that wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle.

a/n: This is a trade for @luci0elle. I was so excited to do this trade with you! I had a blast writing it. Thank you so, so much for suggesting it. I hope it lives up to your expectations!

CW: NSFW, MDNI, fem!OC/self-insert (name used for reader), dubcon, drug use, alcohol, vaginal penetration, pegging, cumshot

Wandering behind the buildings of the labs she couldn’t justify calling home, the alleyways paved her road to a future where she’d be offered a blank slate. No ties to the government and none to Vegapunk, instead it would be left up to her full discretion.

The sun had long since set and the dark clouds casted over any possible navigation by starlight, meaning the pipes that ran above were her only chance of finding a way out of this maze. With residue oozing from the pipes, the dripping substances only further engrained the life she saw for herself.

Ducking out of sight, evading others, eyes set on the target as the sound of rushing water filled the air: Lucille made a break for it just as a security guard spotted her. A leap of faith sent her hurtling into the waters below where her title of government property washed away with the tides.

Since then, she stuck to the shadows and offered the lethal skills infused in her DNA as a service. Although a couple of customers made the mistake of double crossing her, the result was more or less the same—a clear message of what would happen if others tried the same.

Even with operating behind the scenes, word spread among those who were in search of such expertise. Spoiled with choice of who she deemed worthy of her time, someone only familiar by name caught her eye—Caesar Clown. It was an offer she couldn’t refuse. Be it led by morbid curiosity of genuine interest, the deal was made and their fates were merged if only by their signatures.

Neither of them were what the other had expected; the dashes of personality that contradicted word of mouth were both refreshing and worrisome. Finding out who they really were while being in such close proximity wasn't something to be taken lightly.

His suspicious sideways glances, countered with her playful energy sent his reservations towards her for a loop. The evident want she expressed to be around him when she wasn’t off on a mission was…unnerving.

What did she have up her sleeve? was the question that wracked his brain more often than he cared to admit. But still, the bubbly and apparently genuine interest she took in him was received well. After all, how could he resist being fawned over by a deadly force such as herself?

“Come on! I want you to test out one of the cocktails I made!” Luci tugged at Caesar’s coat relentlessly.

His eye twitched in irritation. “I’ve already told you I’m very busy and—”

“You’re always ‘very busy’!” She grumbled.

“And what? I suppose you’re going to say ‘it won’t kill you to take a break’?” He mocked her typically playful tone.

“Is that a challenge?” Luci’s face showed a glimmer of mischief as a coy smile spread on her lips.

A hue of pink dusted his face at his own slip of the tongue. He huffed at her persistent nature, reluctantly surrendering to the silver-eyed woman cocking an eyebrow at him. “Fine. Show me what attempt you’ve made.”

As she led him to the kitchen, his amusement in the confident strut she had made it difficult to suppress even the faintest grin.

“Take a seat.” She gestured to the sofa.

“You’re going to serve me too? Seems I’m getting the royal treatment,” Caesar chuckled. She gave the concoction in the drink mixer a few more good shakes, while sticking her tongue out at him, earning herself a couple more laughs.

Gently, she placed the fuchsia alcoholic beverage in front of him. The swirls of edible glitter danced even under the fluorescent lights.

“Adding something as gaudy as glitter to the drink? Must have looked atrocious beforehand.” He teased, bringing the glass up to his lips.

“I just know how much you can’t stomach a real drink, is all,” Luci whispered. She leaned in, showing the bit of cleavage spilling out of her top.

His cheeks reddened, so he turned away from her and threw half of the drink back in one gulp. There was lust peeking behind her sultry stare, making him chug the remainder of her experimental talents.

She shifted closer to him, her leg now pressed up against his without letting up on the rising want in her demeanor. “Well?” Her voice trailed into his ear. “What's the verdict?”

The assassin's cool tone as she awaited his critiques was faintly nerve-racking. She gently brushed her chest against his arm, when he began stumbling over a response. “It was deceivingly strong…just a tad though.” He added so as not to give Lucille the satisfaction of being right about his intolerance to hard liquor.

Clearing his throat, the feeling of her rubbing up against him was causing his mind to go fuzzy. He couldn't think straight, only being grounded by the redheaded beauty's touch. He rubbed his temple, trying to regain focus.

“Did…did you put something in that drink?” He tugged at his clothes, which were beginning to feel like they were uncomfortably snug.

Luci gave him a helping hand by unzipping the front on his body suit. Revealing his chest and slender stomach, she ran her hand over him greedily. The dampened skin heightened her longing to see more of him, to feel more. The shaky pants that passed his lips grew more and more needy as her touch became more assertive.

With no say in the matter, the drug forced his body to release pheromones laced in a nearly sickeningly intoxicating aroma. A deep sigh escaped her as the desired effect took its course on her, as well.

“You drive me wild. You know that, don't you?” Her fingers aggressively tugged down his boxers, revealing one of the side-effects.

The sharp inhale of his throbbing cock meeting her firm grip only made him more irresistible. Her pupils dilated as she watched the subtle shifts in his facial muscles: reluctance, embarrassment, and finally surrender. The hands of a killer could do more than stomp out the light in her victims’ eyes—capable of bestowing unimaginable waves of ravishment throughout them just as skillfully.

“You want more, don't you?” Lucille nodded, coaxing the same out of him. With a dark smile, she swiftly derobed.

Standing in front of him with smug confidence, the slick arousal between her legs made his heart race. As much as he knew he shouldn’t want her, there were other forces at play, which made his better judgment take a backseat.

His cock twitched as she traced his jaw with her delicate fingers. “I’m going to let you feel every ounce of pleasure you’re burning for, don’t you worry.” A temptress in her own right, he didn’t stand a chance against her dark charm.

She guided him to her bedroom, a domain where she had home field advantage. As she climbed onto her bed, the arch in her back put her wet pussy lips on full display. A suppressed whimper could be heard behind her as she bent over in front of him. His long, lanky limbs caged her small form in. The tip of his cock pressed against her aching core. The close proximity caused the emitting side-effects of the drug to waft over her, causing her patience to wane at an alarming rate.

Unable to wait any longer, she eased herself back on him as far as she was physically able. Tingling sensations of overbearing fervor pushed her into a frenzy. Bouncing up and down his length, the leverage of her on all fours gave each of them rush after rush of pure bliss. Stretching herself out from his girth had her clawing at the bedsheets in a desperate attempt at seeking stability as she plunged him deeper and deeper inside her.

Choked sobs from above gave her more than enough encouragement to keep the fast pace. A large shaky hand gripped at her hip. “F-fuck…” Caesar moaned.

A growl rose from her throat as she slammed her dripping core roughly against him, causing his balls to slap against her clit. With the overpowering erotica flooding his senses, the room began to shift and spin. His body trembled and grew heavy, causing him to slump over on his forearms suddenly. He could barely keep his weight above her.

Cupping his tired face, an unfamiliar warmth emanated from her hand. “You shouldn’t have downed your drink so quickly,” she teased. He groaned from the way her body was still wrapped around him. “Shh, don’t worry. I’ll make things much easier on you.”

When she crawled out from under him, he collapsed on the inviting comfort of her bed. Breathing heavily, the drug's effects were making it impossible for him to ease his swarming thoughts. He watched Lucille carefully, craving more of her but unable to decipher whether it was solely due to the drug or not.

She snuck around him, letting both her hands caress the sides of his hips and waist. His body responded instantly: quaking from the unexpected tenderness in her touch and yearning for sweet release.

“You want it so badly, yeah?” She cooed at him.

He buried his face into her pillow, the scent of her driving him further into madness. A deep gravelly groan was forced into the pillow as he nodded slightly in response.

She chuckled softly. Grabbing a spare pillow, she wedged it under his hips, leaving him in the perfect position for what was soon to come.

While focusing on inhaling the faint scent of Lucille’s shampoo in the fabric of her pillow, the chilled lube caused his body to tense. Her calming voice rocked him back into a trance, and as her slender fingers pressed inside him, his eyes rolled back.

The tip of her strapon buried into him. His hands tightened their grip on the sheets, and he bit her pillow as his body was being forced to accept it at a much faster rate. Strained huffs and cries of euphoria were music to Luci’s ears.

“I didn’t think the potion would have worked this well,” she grunted, wasting no time pounding into him.

The curses dripping from his quivering lips were laced with remaining toxins of the elixir. Caesar cried out for her that further fueled her motions, making each thrust more and more intense. He was close, teetering on the edge.

She reached down to stroke him, rendering him helpless to the paradise she’d bestowed upon him. Each jolt of pleasure raptured his body. The skilled tugs of his painfully carnal urge to give into the temptress who’d successfully had her way with him ate away at every fiber of his self-control.

A wanton soaked shriek was muffled into her pillow as he spilled every last drop of fervor into her hand. The overflow of the pent-up sin cascaded onto her bed and splashed on the other pillow. Choked whimpers were soothed by the tender hand of his hired assassin. Soft hushes and light kisses along his shoulder eased him down from his high.

“If things continue this well, you’ll be ready for more soon enough.” There was a sadistic pleasure she took seeing him completely spent and knowing that she’d get her fix in due time.

He groaned and nodded. Having just experienced an explosive orgasm, there was a part of him that just couldn’t be satiated. Damn her for having made such a lascivious test subject out of him. His eyes rolled back as he began hardening again. He thrusted against the dampened pillow, groaning from the overstimulation. Damn her and the spell she casted on him.

#writing and art trade #not my oc #not my self insert #one piece #x reader #caesar clown #one piece x reader #one piece imagine #op #one piece x you #one piece caesar clown #caesar clown x reader #one piece x oc #op x reader #op x you #one piece self insert #one piece oc #one piece smut

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eldritch-spouse · 2 months ago

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I don't have a disability that requires me to have a service dog or walking stick but if I did I would hire a wrath demon as a quazi bodyguard.

I see videos where people go full Karen mode over service dogs being in stores, emotional support dog owners, people standing on tactile paving like fucking dumbasses.

like the disabled people are always so polite when explaining shit to grown ass adults, some of them understands and apologize then there are those overgrown toddlers that are just like 'NO I have to be right always because that's what my mommy told me!' and that shit makes me froth at the mouth

I just wanna see how the wrath demons would react, personally everytime I watch those video I just wanna ask Karen if her ears are for decoration, yell 'idgaf if your dog is friendly, do you not understand fucking english, STAY AWAY' and just VIOLENTLY shove people out of the way on tactile roads. that shit makes me so angry

ohhh and the ones where the kid cannot keep their hands to themselves and the parents have a bullshit excuse, I could massacre them

[I feel like you're venting here, and uh, I like to remind people every now and then that this is mostly a porn blog. Not that anything you said was wrong, it's just not really the proper space for debates over how disabled people are mistreated. It's kind of why I don't reblog anything here.]

Remember that you're dealing with demons. And while some may adhere to a few morals a bit similar to those you'd find in civilized surface society, many of Wrath's inhabitants view disability as pure weakness and would sooner purge it than accommodate it.

You get shit if you're missing a limb. You get shit if you're blind, if you have invisible disabilities, if you have impediments, if you have sensory issues- You will be targeted by wrathful demons. Perhaps not all of them, no, but many.

Disabled wrathful demons don't offer solidarity to each other, they survive. However they must. Being as cruel as they need to be and slaughtering anyone who dares turn their life harder. They don't explain their disabilities to anyone and they don't allow others to get away with displays of challenge. In turn, by displaying this resilience, they manage to be left alone by others in many settings.

While you may expect an explosive reaction out of them, they're more likely to not care that much for the blatant mistreatment you're showing them, and instead focus on the rage you're feeling. It's very entertaining.

#general tce

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pocketseizure · 6 months ago

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Kohga meets his hero in Tears of the Kingdom. Said hero, Ganondorf, has no clue who Kohga is. Shenanigans (shenaniganons if you will) ensue

The Demon King was perfect. Kohga had expected him to be perfect, of course, but not this perfect.

A chiseled face scowled above shoulders that could bear the weight of the full earth in all its fecundity. A magnificent cascade of flame-red hair framed his noble mien. Kohga was a fine specimen himself and not one to be daunted by even the most remarkable physical beauty, but it was difficult to concentrate with two necrotic phantoms clutching his arms behind his back in the inexorable grip of their malice-encrusted fingers.

Not that he was complaining. It was a stroke of sheer gorgeous serendipity that his latest foray into the upper troposphere had brought him down precisely into the sanctum of the legendary Demon King beneath Hyrule Castle. Kohga cursed himself for not having ascertained the location earlier, but he approved. Only a true genius would launch his attack from under the very feet of his enemies.

“What foolish creature dares to disturb me?” the Demon King demanded. “I await the Hylian hero, and you are not he.”

The phantoms clutched Kohga tighter. He could feel the searing burn of their grip through the heat-resistant fabric of his uniform, but he was not afraid. He considered it a glorious honor to be treated as a threat.

“I am Kohga, the leader of the Yiga Clan. We are your humble followers, my lord, and we have dedicated ourselves body and soul to your service.”

A deep frown creased the Demon King’s face, granting him an even more powerful appearance of masculine ruggedness. “I know all of my servants, from the lowliest Bokolin to the mightiest Frox, and I do not know you. Explain yourself.”

Nothing could have pleased Kohga more. “Since time immemorial, we of the Yiga Clan have sought to undermine the royal family of Hyrule to pave the way for the coming of your lordship,” he boasted. “We have yet to find the princess, but we of the inverted eye keep a close watch on her chosen knight, striking whenever the opportunity presents itself.”

The Demon King’s amber eyes narrowed. “So you say, yet still he walks this land.”

“You are not wrong, your lordship, but this is not a cause for concern. Our strength lies in numbers, and in probabilities. I have fought the knight four, no, five times myself, and we acquire valuable information with every confrontation. In our last battle, I perfected the rocket technology capable of blasting us into space! Well, I mean,” Kohga corrected himself, “technically into the stratosphere, but mark my words. At the rate we’re going, we’ll make it to the moon! Why, just the other day, I – ”

The Demon King raised a hand to interrupt his monologue. “You survived your battles with the knight who wields the sacred sword,” he said, slowly curling his fingers into a fist.

“Y-yes.”

“Five times, you say.”

Kohga nodded, beginning to sweat under his mask. There was nothing he loved more than enacting performances of his battles with Link, but it only just now occurred to him that he may have accomplished a feat that not even the mighty Demon King himself had managed to pull off.

“Very well.” The Demon King nodded, and the magic of his phantoms dissolved in a gradual shedding of crimson light. “I’ve long wondered about what lies beyond the borders of this miserable land. Now tell me,” he continued, a devilish grin spreading across his divinely handsome face, “everything you know about rockets.”

#Tears of the Kingdom #Ganondorf #Master Kohga #Zelda fic #fic prompts #why stop at conquering Hyrule #these nerds should go TO SPACE #bananagans

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jewishvitya · 3 months ago

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You can see how much the Israeli government is committed to preserving "the only democracy in the Middle East."

This is the article from Haaretz.

The Shin Bet is saying this is pointless, will make their work harder, and teachers aren't a threat to anything.

Stood out to me:

In addition to the Shin Bet vetting, the bill includes a provision allowing the withholding of state funds to schools "in which there are or may be expressions of solidarity with acts of terrorism." It also proposes giving the director general of the Education Ministry expanded powers to fire, in an accelerated process, a teacher who "committed an act of solidarity with a terrorist organization" or "published praise, support or encouragement" of an act of terrorism.

For me the context is the way the definition of terrorism is vecoming broader (we saw protests against the government referred to that way).

Oshrat Elmaliah, Education for a Shared Society project coordinator at the Jewish-Arab civil-society organization Sikkuy-Aufoq, said that the purpose of the bill is to "intimidate and silence."

The rest, in case the article is paywalled:

The coalition led by Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu is advancing a bill that would require the Shin Bet security service to vet Israel's teachers, even though the provision was originally removed from the draft legislation. The contentious provision in the bill was removed in the Knesset's Education, Culture and Sports Committee, in part due to opposition from the Shin Bet itself, among others.

Last week, the MK who initiated the bill and one its co-sponsors, MK Amit Halevi of Likud, raised the provision again during the committee's discussion of objections to the bill, to pave the way to submitting the draft law for approval by the full Knesset, even though the provision does not appear in the version that was approved by the committee.

Labor lawmaker Gilad Kariv asked to postpone debate on the bill, arguing that Halevi's reservation concerns a provision that is no longer in the draft law and therefore could not be submitted to a vote.

The Knesset House Committee is expected to decide on the issue Thursday.

The provision Halevi seeks to restore would require the Education Ministry to send the ID numbers of all teachers to the Shin Bet every year, for background checks to determine "suspicion of support or sympathy for terrorism," and perform investigations as needed. Halevi is seeking in effect to restore Shin Bet oversight of teachers, which was abolished in 2005.

The Shin Bet opposes restoring general checks of all teachers. During last year's discussions, the Prime Minister's Office made it clear that the agency, which it oversees, "does not consider teachers a threat, and it therefore does not carry out any analysis of them."

The Shin Bet also argues that having to conduct background checks on so many teachers, without receiving additional funding for this purpose, would divert resources from the agency's core security missions.

A representative of the Finance Ministry who attended a meeting of the Knesset Education, Culture and Sports Committee that discussed the bill last week told the lawmakers that if the background checks were only performed on a few dozen teachers and not to all of them – there are 200,000 teachers in Israel – there would be no budgetary implications.

The ministry also said this in response to a question from Haaretz, ignoring the wording of Halevi's attempt, in which he was proposing to first submit the ID numbers of all teachers in Israel to the Shin Bet. Only after this would an examination be held in cases of hints indicating support or sympathy for terror groups.

During the debate on the law by the previous Knesset, Israel Teachers Union Secretary General Yaffa Ben David strongly objected to the Shin Bet vetting provision. She argued that the law persecutes teachers and labels them as having a greater tendency toward terrorism than people in other professions. "Because of a few bad apples, we'll make a law for all teachers?" she asked rhetorically.

The bill sponsored by Halevi and MK Tzvika Foghel (Otzma Yehudit) bill deals with teachers and school that are suspected of expressing solidarity or support for acts of terrorism.

These provisions, which remain in the bill, also caused strong disagreement in the discussions. Opposition lawmakers noted the problem of giving the director general sole power to decide on a dismissal or revoke budgets. Civil society organizations pointed out that current law already permits dismissing teachers convicted or suspected of supporting terrorism, and that the bill proposes expanding this option without the required system of balances. Oshrat Elmaliah, Education for a Shared Society project coordinator at the Jewish-Arab civil-society organization Sikkuy-Aufoq, said that the purpose of the bill is to "intimidate and silence."

"From now on, every female Arab educator in the country will know that if she chooses to express a political opinion or hold a challenging dialogue in the school environment, she will be under the sole judgment of the Education Ministry director general and the minister, and could be accused of supporting terrorism and could lose her job, in the absence of the current protocol," Elmaliah said.

During the discussions on the bill, some of its wording was slightly softened, and many sections were canceled in the version that is now being submitted for discussion by the committee ahead of submitting it to the full Knesset. At last week's meeting, committee legal adviser Nira Lamay Rachlevsky said, "The Israel Bar Association still insists that the wording of the bill that is on the agenda be legally balanced." She said that it was necessary to balance the wording prescribing that budgets may be revoked from schools by establishing an expert consultation mechanism that will consider the seriousness of the acts."

At the discussions on the objections to the bill, Kariv said that it lacked various important components, such as prescribing the maximum allocation that could be revoked and the duration of the withholding. "When the education minister cuts 20 percent of the budget, can a school teach 20 percent less mathematics?" he asked. He slammed the bill's sponsors for "legislating laws so that we will take them to the High Court of Justice."

In March, Halevi objected to the state budget, but during the vote – despite objections by experts – the Education Committee distributed a new version of the bill that included her original sections but then withdraw her implied threat to oppose the budget and voted in favor of it. At the time, the Likud denied that there was deal linking the two things.

At the Education Committee meeting, Foghel insisted that the bill was necessary, adding: "The legal wrangling and the ability of the legal team to defend the bill before the High Court of Justice does not interest me. As far as I'm concerned, proportionality and balance carry no weight when it comes to protecting the State of Israel. It's unacceptable that a teacher or state-supported education institution would act against the state."

Halevi added, "This bill will prevent the continued fostering of an infrastructure that encourages terrorism and fans evil."

In a response to Haaretz, the Shin Bet said that "the security service's position is that this proposed arrangement is not required for security reasons and is disproportionate. Along with addressing the essential issue, a budgetary evaluation was performed and the results were transferred to professionals. Imposing the obligation to examine teachers on the Shin Bet without covering the expenses for doing so will divert resources allocated to the security service for the purpose of performing its core mission, and could harm its main operations, meant to foil terror attacks at this complex period, with the growing threats on all fronts."

#riki babbles

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everydayyoulovemeless · 1 year ago

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Hello! I hope you're well, if you don't mind, could I get some brotherly headcanons for Arcade, Hancock, Fawkes and Gob with an 18 yr old female or gender neutral reader (your choice really for gender)? Perhaps they could help the reader through the early stages of adulthood?

Thank you so much, have a good day/night/evening!

Brother!Arcade, Hancock, Fawkes, and Gob With a Teen!Reader

➼ Word Count » 0.7k ➼ Warnings » None ➼ Genre » Platonic

Arcade gets more and more stressed with every passing day. You're getting older, and he's dreading the day you ask to travel on your own. He's got to let go at some point, sure, but he doesn't think he'll ever get over the fear that you'll be injured, or worse, sold into slavery. The first thing he's going to do is drill medical advice into your head, that way you'll be prepared for just about every occasion. God, it's hot out here. Is he sweating? He just can't seem to get over you becoming independent. As long as you're careful. He wants to go with you but doesn't want to come off as overbearing. You have to do your own thing at some point, autonomy is important and he needs to learn to let go. At the end of his mini freak out, he'll hug you, hand you a bag full of stimpaks, and make you promise to not get involved with anyone who could be considered even slightly dangerous or untrusting.

Hancock is the least responsible compared to the others. He's reckless, violent, and an addict, but that doesn't mean he's hopeless. He gives you tons of freedom for self-discovery. Wanna try jet? Sure, here you are. Wanna learn to shoot a gun? Let him grab Kleo. He'll never be one to prevent you from trying something out. That being said, he'd rather you leave anything more... 'hands-on' to him. You haven't seen the Commonwealth like he has, and he'd prefer to keep it that way. You don't need to see the darker parts of the world. Another benefit of being as close as you are with Hancock is that everyone in Goodneighbor treats you like the little sibling they've never had. Of course, some are resentful (Bobbi), but most will gladly break a few bones if they ever need to. When facing adulthood, Hancock just tells you to stay as free as you can. Pave your own paths and whatnot. Growing up is different for everyone, but you shouldn't let that deter you. Just live as you want, do a bit of community service here and there, and you should be fine.

Fawkes thinks it's admirable that someone so young is surviving out in the waste, however, he'll quickly put an end to you traveling on your own. You're far too young to be facing everything on your own and he is much too willing to fill in for the missing guardian role. He'd be so ready to die for you, shielding you from anything hostile that comes your way. It's rare for someone your age to still be alive and he'd never take that for granted. Anytime he can, he'll ensure you're safe and relatively unharmed. Adulthood's a weird transition, and he'll gladly be there to hold your hand every step of the way so you feel ready and prepared for when you have to face it on your own. You shouldn't be afraid of the unknowns in your life, although, he isn't all too worried you'll have any problems at all. You're strong and quick to adapt, just look at how well you handled leaving the Vault for the first time. If you still feel a bit uncertain, he's always glad to help you through everything.

The first thing Gob would try to teach you is to never get caught up in debt and never to go near Moritarity's. He's so scared that his boss will find a way to trap you into his business like he did to Gob and he'd rather you didn't lose so many years of your life doing something so mundane. Every time Nova tells him she spotted you enter Megaton, he'll quickly leave his post behind the bar and gently tell you to return to the Underworld where it's safe. Carol and Greta will care for you, so go back there, won't you? He feels bad. He wants to travel with you and try to help you navigate your life in the wasteland, but he can't afford to be beaten again, so he opts to try and finish his debt quickly. That way he can be out there with you and make sure you're doing alright. He might be a nervous wreck at the best of times, but he cares for you just as much as he does anyone in his makeshift family.

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reniberries · 1 year ago

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BARRACUDA . toji fushiguro

when your search for a job falls short for what feels like the millionth time in a row, you’re just about ready to give up until an odd proposition makes itself known to you.

chapter warnings: underground fighter!toji fushiguro, swearing, hurtful thoughts, lewd comments from men, mentions of drinking alcohol, smoking and drugs, attempted theft

total wc: 3.0k

— CHAPTER ONE . desperate measures

At this point, you wholeheartedly believed that the world was playing some kind of sick and twisted game on you.

It laughed at you, dangling the one thing you truly desired right in front of your face, only to snatch it away at the very last second, like taking a child’s favourite toy from them just as they’ve picked it up.

You were the child, so full of excitement and hope at the idea of starting new, being able to pick yourself off the ground, and the world was the adult who’d come into the room and decided you were undeserving of the toy in front of you. It picked up all that you desired, and placed it on top of a shelf that you were too small to get to.

Try as you might, you simply could not reach it. Well, metaphorically anyway.

In this moment, that’s exactly how you felt, clambering across the couch to reach your phone that had lit up with the notification of an unknown caller. Like every time before, you allowed yourself to feel excited. As though this was the very moment things would start to fall into place, and all the bad memories of the past would fade away as you paved the way for your new life.

And yet, you were let down, again.

The way your face immediately falls alerts your roommate, Sherri, to the conclusion of the phone call, hearing a repeatedly distinctive phrase that she knew you’d come to despise over time.

“I regret to inform you, but…” you’d hung up before the man on the other side had enough time to finish his sentence. The exasperated sigh you released from between your lips held a heartbroken tone, and all you could do was shake your head when Sherri quietly asks if you’re okay.

It hadn’t always been like this. Three months ago you were more than content working a few hours every week as a waitress in a small but well-known restaurant called ‘Alexie’s’, where you’d actually met Sherri, and although the management wasn’t the best at times, and you were sure the chef had a stick shoved further up his ass then you could’ve imagined, it was still something.

The job had given you something to do when you weren’t attending your nursing classes, or writing essays, and it worked like a charm at taking your mind away from your personal life when things went wrong.

Sure, some customers were complete and utter dickheads, expecting five star service and for you to wait on them hand and foot, but the majority of people were nice and the pay was more than worth dealing with some crappy person coming in and demanding you seat them and their eighteen other friends immediately, despite being fully booked.

You were heartbroken when the owner had set up a staff meeting to inform you and everyone else that the restaurant was unable to stay open.

Things had never been this bad before, and honestly, there wasn’t much you weren’t willing to do if it guaranteed you a job. Not when the cost of living had skyrocketed and all but royally fucked you over.

Sherri had been an angel throughout this situation you’d found yourself in, though you were slightly jealous the day she came back from an interview with the local supermarket, telling you how they’d happily hired her on the spot. She had been your rock to stick on while your life turned completely upside down, even going as far as offering to cover next months rent.

But you still needed to feed yourself each week, still needed to pay for the bus fare on your way into college, and even worse, you still needed to pay back the money you owed to your parents.

If moving back into your parents house was an option, you might’ve resorted to it considering how desperate things had become. But that wasn’t an option, and it never would be.

You couldn’t allow that to happen.

Not only was it impossible, seeing as they were living in an entirely different country, but you’d intentionally created that distance in order to get as far away from them as possible. Moving halfway across the world in order to escape them and their overbearing ruling that they held over your head was the first thing you’d done after graduating high school, and you weren’t about to go back on the promise you’d made to them that day.

Telling your mother and father that they would never see you again should’ve been heartbreaking. You should’ve been crying or screaming at them, and maybe, in a perfect world, they would have told you to stay, or that they didn’t want you to leave.

But again, the world was seldom perfect, and after the past few months, you truly were finding that fact out for yourself.

It was Sherri’s sweet voice that snapped you out of your daydream, still clutching your phone to your ear as you kneeled on the couch. “Why don’t we go out tonight? It might make you feel better.”

You let out another sigh, ready to shoot her offer down even though the suggestion was extremely tempting after the dreaded phone call, “Sherri, I can barely afford the bus right now, I can’t—”

She grinned before interrupting you, a sly look that you couldn’t decide if you liked or not.

“You really think I’d suggest that if I didn’t have a plan?” She raised a questioning eyebrow up at your form, “Lukah’s working tonight, do you know what that means?”

With a shrug, you settled back into the couch and pulled a blanket over your knees, staring back at your roommate and waiting for her to continue.

She leaned towards you from the opposite end, “free drinks!” She exclaimed, and moved her hands around as if her point had been obvious from the start.

“Didn’t he just start a new job though? We’ll end up getting him fired if he’s caught giving out free drinks,” Sherri giggled as if you’d said the funniest thing, and then her expression began to shift into something slightly more serious.

She hesitated to reply, and when Sherri got quiet, it could only mean trouble. “Well, the place he started working at, it's not exactly in the most... uh," it was if she was struggling to find the right words to say without scaring you away. "...Desirable of places, so he doesn't think his boss will care much," she finished with.

An eyebrow raised as you stared at her, wordlessly asking the short girl to elaborate. "It's in the Jujutsu District."

Ah, you thought, that would explain why she'd been slightly more reluctant to tell you.

The Jujutsu District was pretty notorious throughout the city, and especially with the younger population seeing as a large majority of clubs and bars could be found spread out around the area. You'd been a couple times, mainly to the small pubs that laid just on the outskirts, as most locals were well aware that it was smarter to stay clear of the place. It was no secret that the kinds of deals that typically went on out there were far from legal, though even the police had deemed the place a 'no-go zone' and were rarely seen patrolling anywhere near it.

But even you couldn't say no to a few free drinks after being so down on luck, and so, within a few seconds of dubiously nodding your head in agreement with Sherri, she was yanking on your arms to pull you away from the couch and into her room.

And within an hour and a half, the two of you had made your way out of the apartment hand-in-hand.

The club was filled to the brim, drenching you in a light sheen of sweat that glistened across your skin. Music blared in through your ears from every direction and created a dull ache that stretched across your forehead. You couldn't put your finger on the name of the song that was currently playing, although it brought an odd sense of déjà vu along with it.

Truthfully, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like going out with your friends. There was something so exciting about getting ready for the club and dancing the night away, smearing shimmery eyeshadow across your lids and lining them with a distinctive wing of eyeliner. The clothing you’d thrown on hugged every inch of your body, but it was hard to care about your slight discomfort when the edge of a glass was lifted to your mouth, lips lined and covered in a colour so signature to your look.

Lukah was a godsend, sneaking both you and Sherri drinks over the counter every time either of you walked up to the bar, and just like Sherri had said, it didn't seem like his manager couldn't give two shits.

Sherri grabbed your wrist after you placed the shot glass back down on the bar, void of whatever liquor Lukah had offered the two of you. Leading you over to the sea of bodies on the dance floor, you could barely hear your roommate when she said "c'mon, my favourite song just came on!"

It was borderline provocative the way you and Sherri danced together. Her back was pressed to the front of your body, arms lifted and wrapped around your neck, and the way your hips swung against each other to the beat of the music was enough to gain more than a little attention from the boys that littered around the dance floor.

Neither of you bothered to entertain those who tried to approach either of you. Either, they came on way too cocky for their own good, or were sporting some serious baby face, and that was enough for you to shake your head, waiting for them to do the walk of shame back to their friends.

One man had come up to Sherri and asked for her number, only to continue bothering her even after she'd told him no multiple times. After the third decline and narrowly avoiding his grabby hands heading for her hand, Sherri twisted her head around and planted a delicate kiss on the corner of your mouth, exclaiming loudly that she "couldn't wait to get home and get you alone," and that was enough for him to briskly walk away.

It was no surprise honestly, as not only did you look and feel beautiful, but Sherri looked like a supermodel in her little black dress and heels. Plus, you could admit that the male attention did help a little in lightening the mood you'd been in before the two of you left the house.

"Do you wanna get another drink?" Sherri shouted over the music.

You shook your head, "I'm gonna get some air, I'll meet you at the bar." She gave you quizzical look, as to question why. You lifted your hand out in front of you, a white lighter and pack of Marlboro Gold's held within it.

Making your way outside was much more difficult of a task than you had expected, shoving your way through the endless amounts of bodies that had filled the club, probably knocking a drink or vape out from someones grasp as you went on your way.

The cold November air caused a shiver to crawl its way over your barely clothed body after you exited the building, and it felt heavenly as it washed away the sweat that had started accumulating across your skin. A flicker of light shone against your eyes, along with the sound of flint sparking from the lighter held in your right hand and a deep inhale.

Several bodies littered outside of the club, some clearly had the same idea as you, cigarettes clutched between their two fingers as they chatted away to their friends, others were still waiting in line to be let in, ID's held out for the large bouncer to take a look at, and there was even a couple who'd clearly had too much to drink, snogging away in a corner as if they weren't in the company of others.

It was quite a surreal feeling, as you leant against the cold brick wall, bringing your hand up to your face to take another inhale of the stick held in them. Three hours ago, you'd almost been reduced to tears, feeling like the world truly had it out for you, yet now, you couldn't help but enjoy the dizzy feeling crawling up your spine, making you sway slightly.

Your problems hadn’t been solved with the sip of an alcoholic drink, far from it in fact. They would still be there to plague your thoughts tomorrow morning, even as you battled the headache you knew was coming, but at least in this very moment, as you let the tipsy feeling encompass your body, you could relax.

That feeling didn't last for long.

Just as you'd closed your eyes, smoke pillowing out from your parted lips, you felt a violent tug on the bag attached to your shoulder.

The stranger takes another pull on your right arm, causing you to drop the half-smoked cigarette onto the floor and the burgundy handbag falls out of your grasp.

“Hey!” Your voice is slightly slurred, an effect of the alcohol you’d consumed minutes prior, however the anger and small hint of fear is clearly heard in your words. It takes you a few seconds to register the tall man running away from you, clad in dark jeans and a hoodie pulled over his head, and your bag clutched in his hands.

Before you even realise what you’re doing, you start running after him. “Hey, jackass!” You repeat, “give me pack my purse!”

Your voice echoes through the street, yet it seems like everyone around you is too far gone to even notice or care.

Discomfort surrounds the heels of your feet, but it doesn’t stop you from giving up the chase as the man turns left into a dark alleyway. You’d chastise yourself later for the self preservation you seemed to lack in that very moment, completely ignorant to the dangerous connotations of following a strange man into a secluded area such as this, in the middle of the night. But that purse has everything you owned at the minute, your phone, wallet and any small amount of cash you currently had, and you couldn’t just let it slip from your arms.

He twists his head to look at you, as if shocked to see that you were actually following him.

It was at this moment that someone stepped out in front of him, and as soon as the thief got closer to the mysterious stranger, they threw their arms out and shoved him down to the ground.

Your bag went flying from his hands and onto the pavement.

Even from where you were standing, you could hear the thief’s harsh intakes of breath, winded from how hard he had hit the ground, and your saviour stepped over the man’s body.

He picked up your bag from the ground, slowly making his way over to you.

Finally, it dawned on you that while he had saved you from losing quite literally everything you owned, that didn’t make him any less dangerous than the man who’d stolen from you in the beginning, and as he stepped towards you, panic started to make its way up your spine.

“Don’t come any closer!” You screamed at him. His steps faltered, but he didn’t stop moving, “I have a knife!” You didn’t, and it was probably pretty obvious that you’d lied as his eyes raked over your body, searching for anything that remotely resembled a weapon.

You could hear him release a small laugh as he came even closer, holding out your purse for you to take. “I believe this is yours?”

Gingerly, your hands clasped around the strap, pulling it towards your chest and releasing a sigh of relief. “Thank you,” you said, and began to quickly check that everything was still left inside, untouched.

He watched as you did so, a dark, thin eyebrow raised in questioning.

It was here, as the moonlight lit up his face, that you got a good look at your saviour. He was tall, big enough to feel imposing as he stood several feet away from you, with long black hair that cascaded down his back in a way that made you slightly jealous. He looked down at you with some of the most alluring brown eyes you’d ever seen, almost hazel with the way the street lamps highlighted his face from behind you.

A kind smile lulled you into a false sense of security as he opened his mouth to speak. “What kind of idiot runs after a guy like that in the middle of the night?” His tone was teasing, coinciding with the smirk he wore.

“Well,” you snorted sarcastically, “everything I own is in this bag. If I’d let him take it, I wouldn’t have anything left.” Maybe you should’ve been slightly nicer to the man that had just saved your life’s savings, but at the moment you couldn’t take any chances, not when you were so obviously isolated from the main street that was littered with drunks, druggies and the like.

He laughed at your comment, but shrugged and held out his hands, as if to say ‘there you go’.

You let out an awkward cough, trying to fill the silence. “I’m, uh… gonna go now, my friend is waiting for me back at the club,” you held out a thumb to point behind you, as if he’d know exactly where you’d meant despite the several buildings behind you filled with dancing strangers.

He nodded without saying anything else, and you took that as permission to make your leave.

Just as you’d turned your back on him, started to make your way back towards the club, his voice rung out again and stopped you in your tracks.

“Maybe I could help you out.”

authors note: so, the first chapter of barracuda is officially finished! this is the largest piece of writing i’ve done in a very long time and while i’m probably being overly critical, i do think at some point i will go back and edit it once the series is finished! but, let me know how you feel about this and if you liked it! i am very excited to see where this story goes. reni xx

#reniberries ❤︎#barracuda #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen au #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk #jjk au #jjk x reader #toji fushiguro #toji fushigro x reader #jjk toji #toji fushiguro smut #toji x reader

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rebel-girl-queen-of-my-world · 5 months ago

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“Making Jewish people the face of the US-Israel war machine is dangerous. The far right is rising all around the world, and with it, a real and violent threat against Jewish people, but rather than talking about or working together to defeat fascism and injustice everywhere, western states are mis-defining antisemitism to justify ongoing genocide.” — Stefanie Fox

JVP’s Executive Director, Stefanie Fox, spoke to the @unitednations this week where she conveyed the urgent need to withstand the U.S. campaign of repression aimed at silencing, criminalizing, and crushing the movement for Palestinian freedom.

Her address comes at a moment in which militarized police target and brutalize hundreds of anti-Zionist Jews alongside their Palestinian classmates across student encampments. Encampments where Jewish students led shabbat services and passover seders, and countless young Jews have never felt more Jewish than while participating in the pro-Palestine multifaith, multiracial community committed to justice for all people.

Repressing the movement for Palestinian liberation is a perilous path that paves the way for authoritarian policies, undermines democratic rights, and closes the space for civil society worldwide.

In the words of Dalia Darazim of @sjp.columbia who also testified, “Our battle ultimately is not with university administrators. It is with the entire imperial core. The crackdown on college campuses is just one symptom of the colonial violence that will continue as long as the Zionist occupation over Palestine persists. We know our universities are just one front in this battle for liberation and they are a crucial reminder that none of us are truly free until Palestine is free.”

Watch the full panel at the link in our bio or at https://www.jadaliyya.com/Details/46089

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ourtalechara · 22 days ago

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Don't ask what I'm doing I'm not doing anything (VBS Data Stream guys look at it)

Kohane An Akito Toya and Luka

(actually nice and finished looking lyrics under cut)

Eventually, all walls meet demolition

So Wall Street had to keep the tradition

Their financial systems resigned to ignition

And out of the ashes, we have arisen

An empire is forged in the fire of ambition

In business, there isn't the time for attrition

Invest to suppress then ingest competition

Then each acquisition is new ammunition

When governments crumble and fall to the floor

That was paved with the graves of a corporate war

A fundament funded in blood just to shore

A foundation for founding our covenant

Born of a need for control of societal entropy

Enterprise at the price of your indemnity

Chart out the course and of course you were meant to be

Bent to the will of a corporate entity

Arasaka Security. You're in safe hands

We're the light in your screens, we're the lead in your veins

Then you wake from your dreams, so we can sell them again

In the light we distract with the shiny and new

So you're blind to the fact that the product is you

So let your brain dance and replay the dream

But don't drown in the data stream

'Cause we see where you are and we see where you go

'Cause we know what you own and we own what you know

From the top of all our towers, the corridors of power clearly need rewiring

Arasaka saw the spark and then embarked upon the path to turn that spark to lightning

There's no autonomous megalopolis so populous or prosperous you could reside in

And every citizen that's living in this city is a digit on the charts we're climbing

Political systems are too inefficient

They split like the atom and burned in the fission

Now every department and every decision

Defer to the herds of our corporate divisions

If you don't remember the ballot you cast

It's printed on every receipt you were passed

Each time you selected our products and services

We were elected in each of your purchases

What's left to do when you've got the monopoly?

Turn the consumer into the commodity

It isn't hard where you've hardware neurology

Honestly, do read the company policy

Take information and trade it for wealth

You pay it in each augmentation we sell

It's easy to cut out the middleman

When he's cut out most of himself

Arasaka Finance. Investing in your future

(chorus)

All that you say on the net we composite

To maps that go straight from your head to your pocket

Complain if you want, you're still making deposits

Of data — each day you log on is a profit

Society currently lists electronic

So isn't conducting resistance ironic?

We've plenty of skeletons locked in our closets

But yours are assembled from old-stock hydraulics

So lucky we know just the pieces you need

All plucked from your social media feeds

The places you go and the posts that you read

All snatched for a new algorithm to feed

Now, holding our gold isn't par for the brand

Our silver is sat in the palm of your hand

Quit whining and sign on the line in the sand

The supply does not get to make the demands

(chorus)

Arasaka Manufacturing. Building a better tomorrow

Name, age, qualifications

Race, faith, career aspirations

Political leaning, daily commute

Marital status, favourite fruit

Family, browser, medical history

Hobbies, interests, brand affinity

Fashion, style, your occupation

Gender identity, orientation

Lifestyle choices, dietary needs

The marketing contact you choose to receive

Posts, likes, employers, friends

Social bias, exploitable trends

Tastes, culture, phone of choice

Facial structure, the tone of your voice

If it's inside your head, we know

You can't escape the ebb and flow

(chorus)

When guiding the hand of the market

If it's holding a cheque or a gun

The fingers go deep in your pockets

And you can live under the thumb

You seem so surprised, what did you expect?

We're thinking outside of that box that you checked

The terms were presented in full to inspect

You scrolled to the end just to get to "Accept"

Arasaka would like to know your location

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